Spectrum
by Not Enough Answers
Summary: Companion piece to Checkmate and Shatter. Each color tells its own story, and there are many stories in Jeannie's life.


**To all the lovely readers of _Shatter, _I promise that the story will be updated and finished very soon. I am working on the next chapter at this very moment. I planned to have this series finished two years ago, and it is taking me much longer than I thought. So, in order to tide everyone over, I decided to post this exercise in character development that's helped me through many a chapter. Each chapter (there should be about ten of them in total) will focus on a primary color, and link those colors to events in both _Checkmate _and _Shatter._ It's a companion piece as well as a writing exercise, and I sincerely hope that you will all enjoy it!**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 1: Red<span>**

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><p><span><em><strong>Anger<strong>_

When Mr. Kerr announced that they were moving to Gotham, Jeannie saw red.

He had purposefully, she later realized, taken them to an upscale restaurant where no one would be able to start an argument. Mrs. Kerr already knew, of course, but none of the children did. They had just ordered their meals and Jeannie's stomach was growling at the thought of the filet mignon she was about to have, when Mr. Kerr spoke up.

"You know that I haven't been very happy with my job for the past several years," he began in his most authoritative voice, forcing them to sit up and listen. "The pay is far too low for the hours I'm working and the high-risk situations I often find myself in. Chicago has one of the highest police suicide rates in the country."

There was a pause while Jeannie and her siblings exchanged baffled looks. "What are you saying, Dad?" Liam finally asked.

Mr. Kerr took a long sip of his drink before answering. "I was offered a job as an officer in Gotham City. They sent out a desperate plea to all of the major cities in the country, and the pay is almost twice as much as what I'm receiving now. We would be able to afford a bigger house and go on longer vacations—"

But longer vacations weren't Jeannie's primary focus. "And did you take it?" she interrupted.

Her father nodded. "Yes."

There was an instant uproar: Liam groaned, Harriet narrowed her eyes, Rebecca's hand tightened on her glass of water, and Jeannie let out an involuntary cry. "Dad, you _can't!_" she protested. "My entire _life _is here." By that, she meant Oliver Hammet and Miranda Parker, her two best friends.

"Isn't Gotham even more dangerous than Detroit, let alone Chicago?" Liam pointed out.

Mr. Kerr regarded his son almost sadly. "Yes. That is the reason why they need more officers. The city has been in turmoil ever since the Waynes were killed. I am hoping the benefits of the new job outweigh the risks."

The ever-practical Rebecca asked, "When are we moving?"

"Your mother and I were thinking just after Christmas would be the best time," Mr. Kerr replied. "That way you wouldn't be arriving in the middle of the term, and it gives everyone adequate time to say their goodbyes and throw parties if they wish to." He gave Harriet and Jeannie, the two most outgoing, pointed looks.

Jeannie did not care about parties. "But Gotham is on the _east coast!" _she whined pitifully, as if that explained everything.

"I know," her father tried to reassure her. "It will be difficult for you—for all of you—and for that I am sorry. Moving is never easy, and I hope you understand that I did not make this decision lightly. But we will still be able to visit Chicago during the summers—"

Jeannie didn't wait to hear the rest of his excuses. Rage boiled up inside her at the unfairness of it all, and she could feel frustrated, helpless tears pricking at her eyes. She pushed back her chair and sprinted across the restaurant to the bathroom. When she saw that no one else was inside, she kicked the wall so hard that a blazing pain shot through her foot. Not only did it cause her to howl in agony, it didn't distract her in the least from her anger. Her vision seemed to turn red at the edges as she burst into tears.

When her mother and Rebecca came in to fetch her, she locked herself in a stall and refused to leave until they threatened to ask security to forcibly remove her. Jeannie did not take a single bite of her food that evening, and for years afterward she would associate steak with the memory of an all-consuming rage and helplessness.

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><p><strong><span><em>Blood<em>**

Blood haunted Jeannie's dreams. She was always surrounded by endless pools of it, her clothes stained with crimson liquid, and she could never tell if it was hers or not. During the months of her imprisonment by the Joker, she even began to see bloodstains where they were not present—on bedsheets, windows, even Lily's skin and hair. And Jeannie would always know that this was how her life would end—her lying in a pool of her own blood, the Joker's countless victims screaming at her to run. Like Lady Macbeth, Jeannie found herself frantically scrubbing her hands in order to rid herself of the phantom stains that adorned them. She had the sense that she was walking through a world made of blood, and even when she closed her eyes she could still see the Joker's red, bloody grin.


End file.
